


September

by kototyph



Series: Halloween Trick or Treat Ficlets [17]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Autumn, Does Not Reveal the Bad Guy so There's That, Epilogue, M/M, Picnics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-30 10:02:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8528824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kototyph/pseuds/kototyph
Summary: Spock is Riverside's first ever vampire, and Deputy Kirk is pretty thrilled.





	

**Author's Note:**

> queeniebroccolini requested something from The Eternal WIP. Specifically: "MUA HAHAHAH: gimme some of that sweet, sweet True Blood vamp Spock and redneck cop Kirk, YOU KNOW YOU WANNA"

Labor Day was big in Riverside.  The church notices went out weeks beforehand, and the park next to the elementary school was a madhouse by ten in the morning.  Families from around town had donated their folding chairs and card tables, and a long row of them groaned under the weight of ten different kinds of potato salad and twenty kinds of pie. There were some real fire hazards down on the end with hot plates, but Jim was still technically suspended. Not his problem.

[[MORE]]

An enterprising art teacher set up a facepainting station, and Jojo ran around most of the afternoon with half her face done in shimmering blue and pink scales.  She insisted to anyone who would listen she was a fairy dragon, and at some point Bones had gotten a smear of silvery purple under his nose. No one told him, but he’d noticed something was up and started scowling at every wide smile aimed his way.

They’d headed out early, citing school the next day.  Ny had gone too; Gala was doing well, but not in any shape to come to the park, and Nyota had wanted to bring her a few helpings of marshmallow salad.  The park grills were still going strong as the sun set, Scotty commandeering one near six and kept up a steady stream of hot dogs and burgers.  Very few sandwiches, surprisingly, although Jim thought he saw some breadheels hiding in the mound of buns on the table next to him.

At that point, Jim bought another warm beer from the Knights of Columbus and dragged a picnic table over to the grill from outside the cafeteria, ten years of preteen angst carved into the wood and red paint flaking off in sheets. Sulu and Chekov showed up soon after, followed by the sheriff in a brand-new, motorized wheelchair.  Jim and Pike knocked their bottles together while the two officers on duty looked on with longing.

 _“Hey, you lazy assholes,”_ came Giotto’s voice from their radios. _“I see you over there. I need a body by the swings, over.”_

“Not me,” Sulu said immediately, and slowly wilted under Pike’s raised eyebrow. “I mean.”

_“Someone’s dog got ahold of Mrs. Kowalski’s handbag and it’s dropping… stuff all over. Over.”_

“Stuff?” Jim asked.

“Stuff? Over,” Sulu said into his radio.

 _“Stuff,”_ Giotto said, clearly uncomfortable. _“You know,_ stuff. _Adult stuff. Christ, this woman is older than my mother—”_

“Not it,” Chekov said, eyes wide.

“Someone’s got to go,” Sulu argued.

“Suspended,” Jim said, raising his hands.

“Medical leave,” Pike said dryly. “Officer Sulu, please proceed to the scene. I’m sure you’ll handle it with all the courtesy and professionalism I’ve come to expect from you.”

Sulu gave him a hangdog look, but swung his legs over the bench and slunk off towards the playground without any more complaining.  

“Ah, shite timing,” Scotty said cheerfully from the grill. “Bangers up, lads!”

Four plates were raised and filled, and Jim was about to take a bite of the first of two fat, split brats when something beyond Scotty and the grill caught his eye.

A blink, and he didn’t know what it had been. There wasn’t anything there on a second look, just the treeline marking the edge of the park. Lots of walnuts and broken acorns on the ground under them. Could be a squirrel.

Jim kept his eyes on the trees said, “Hey, Scotty. Pass the ketchup?”

“Ah’ll ha’ ye know catsup is no th’ thing te put on yon wee sausage,” Scotty said disapprovingly. “Mustard. _Only_ th’ mustard, ye ken, ah have it here—”

“Just give me the damn ketchup.”

“’s no’ right,” Scotty said sadly, but he passed the ketchup.

The park sat on a sloping lot, which in some places was quite steep: the school at the top and the woods at the bottom.  The hill faced west, and though the tops of the trees with their firework bursts of scarlet and orange were lit, their trunks sat in deep violet shadow.

Jim put a huge blot of ketchup on the edge of his plate and plunked the bottle down on the table. “I’ll be back in a sec,” he said, and plate in hand, he walked carefully down the rest of the hill and into the waiting woods below.

He’d only taken a few steps inside before he was completely swallowed in darkness, and only a few steps beyond that before he stopped, tilted his head, and grinned.

“Hi there,” he said. “Hotdog?”

“… I am incapable of ingesting solid foods,” said a vampire who was _not_ Spock, and Jim felt a brief flash of shock shading into panic before a soft touch at his elbow turned him towards the second vampire standing in the shadows.

“Hello, Jim,” said Spock, fingertips resting briefly on his arm.

“Hey,” Jim said, quieter, and couldn’t help a smile at Spock’s slow blink. “Hello.”

“I am pleased on this occasion to introduce a member of my former nest,” Spock said, voice and posture so stiff he seemed robotic. “Sarek, esteemed and venerated among all Vulcans.”

The other, seemingly older vampire nodded gravely. “Well met, James Tiberius Kirk.”

He wore long, dark robes, his hair cut into the same simple style, his dark eyes familiar. It took Jim a moment to place them, but when he did— when he remembered where he’d heard that name previously— he blurted, “Wait, your _dad_ Sarek? Sybok’s dad Sarek?”

“The esteemed Sarek is our progenitor, yes,” Spock said, incredibly wooden, and Jim barely stopped himself from laughing out loud. Of all the bizarre and unimaginable places this relationship had led them, he never once thought he’d have to meet the family. Much less ever have the opportunity to embarrass Spock in front of his parents.

He kind of wanted to. Did that make him a dick?

“I’m very pleased to meet you, sir,” he said diplomatically, and next to him Spock seemed to relax a fraction. “Would you care to join us at the table?”

Spock went rigid, for no particular reason Jim could see. Sarek merely folded his hands.

“I thank you for the invitation,” he said. “However, I have another engagement this evening that demands my attention. With your permission, I will call on you at your place of residence tomorrow evening.”

Jim very much saw where Spock’s tortuous turns of phrase came from. “Sounds good to me.”

Sarek bowed briefly, and then simply wasn’t there anymore.

“Wow,” Jim said, after a moment. “I wasn’t expecting—”

“Please do me the very great favor of _never again_ inviting my father to ‘join your table’,” Spock said through what sounded like tightly clenched teeth.

“Wait, what? _Wait._ Is that a—? _”_

“Yes.”

“Did I just ask your dad to—?”

“Yes,” Spock said, aggrieved. “In the first sixty seconds of meeting him no less. You are a singularly astounding man, as always.”

“Damn,” Jim said. “I’m sorry?”

“I doubt that,” Spock said, but his hand was on Jim’s arm again and with it, he turned Jim fully towards him and raised the other to his face, thumb stroking his cheek. “But I do appreciate hearing it.”

Jim was grinning again as Spock leaned in. “I did say he could come over tomorrow.”

“Cease,” Spock growled.

“Make me,” Jim said, and laughed into Spock’s mouth when he did.


End file.
